Votary to Fond Desire
by IntoTheSkyUntil
Summary: Valentine’s Day in the Shadow Gallery. How can V possibly show Evey how much he cares? VEvey galore, bittersweet as always.
1. Pacing

**Votary to Fond Desire**

**Chapter 1**

**By SparkleStar**

**Author's Notes**: Written in response to the LJ Challenge/plot adoption thing (thanks to LJ user **usaginokawaii** for the idea!). I desperately wanted to keep this as cannon as possible, so the setting is while Evey was staying with V before she went to Gordon's. This story was originally a one shot that totally ran away—there are now six chapters in all, so please stay tuned.

**Summery**-Valentine's Day in the Shadow Gallery. How can V possibly show Evey how much he cares? V/Evey galore, bittersweet as always.

------------------------------------

"_Even so by love the young and tender wit  
Is turned to folly; blasting in the bud,  
Losing his verdure even in the prime,  
And all the fair effects of future hopes.  
But wherefore waste I time to counsel the  
That art a votary to fond desire?"_

_-Valentine, Two Gentlemen of Verona, I, i, 52_

-----------------------------------

V did not pace.

He never paced.

He would _never_ pace.

He would never pace except in extreme circumstances which required deep and innumerable amounts of thought. Pacing, vaudevillian in nature and comical to an extent, did nothing but exacerbate the intensity of any situation. Normally, when ensconced in thought, V would simply sit quietly and let his mind do the pacing for him. He didn't need to add any physical motion in order to dramatize the state of confusion he was in. However, V would be the first to admit that this particular situation was slightly different. This particular situation he had never encountered, nor ever prepared for even in his most detailed plans. It was the only time in V's life that he could remember ever feeling ill-equipped—surprised--ambushed to an extent. He didn't like the way that it felt to suddenly feel so vulnerable—so exposed—so-

Human.

A scornful smile graced the features behind the mask as V shook his head slightly at the thought.

If only.

It was nighttime and—V looked over at the clock on top of the stove—late. Two in the morning to be exact. He had been sitting quietly in the kitchen of the Shadow Gallery for several hours, arms resting on the table, black gloved hands folded pensively in front of him. He was still fully dressed in his daytime regalia of black upon black at a time of the night when he normally luxuriated in the feeling of the cool air of the Galley washing over his unmasked face.

Not tonight.

V would be the first to admit that it was far too late to be sitting up at this hour thinking of anything but the plan that he had been working on for the past 15 years—the plan that he had devoted every living fiber of his being to creating and executing. The plan that had given him the will to go on--the will to breathe—the will to walk again when nothing else on earth could console him. The plan that had nourished him and fed him in his darkest hours, that had comforted him and consoled him through every agonizing night alone. It was the plan that the whole world would await with baited breath—the plan that with a little more work countless multitudes would follow to reclaim their government, their lives, and their futures.

His plan.

The plan that strangely felt less important every time he looked into her eyes.

V sighed.

Maybe, just maybe, this one time, pacing would help him think.

He glanced around the room, and then, realizing the absurdity of his actions, pushed himself back from the table. Evey had been asleep for quite sometime now—he had checked on her several hours ago. She would never know that he had ever resulted to any type of base stereotypical vigilante tactic such as pacing. V pushed himself out of his chair and tepidly took a step toward the center room of the Shadow Gallery.

One….

And another step.

Two….

He clasped his hands behind his back.

Three….and turn.

The sound of his boots upon the floor echoed off of the silent stone walls.

14 days.

In exactly 14 days—now technically 13 days—he would be faced with a foe that, from what he had heard, nary a mortal man possessed enough strength to conquer:

Valentine's Day.

V readily affirmed that he feared neither death nor anything else in the world. He had shed all traces of that type of fear long ago when most of his humanity was stripped of him from those at Larkhill. However, despite the torture, pain, and disfigurement, they could not take his mind—his ideas and emotions. Despite everything, when he walked out of that fire, enraged and vengeful as he was, V was still a person—he was still a man deep underneath it all.

At least, partly.

And because of this, V affirmed the fact that no matter how fearless he was, no matter how much of himself they had taken away, no matter what danger he faced, he, strictly speaking from his viewpoint as a man of course, was slightly….maybe…..just the littlest bit apprehensive about the idea of Valentine's Day.

One…two….three…turn.

After all, it was only several days ago that he had even decided to do something for Evey in order to commemorate the holiday. Naturally, if it were up to him, as he had in the past, he would simply skip the over-commercialized celebration as merely another calendar day—a simple rotation of the earth and nothing more. Throughout his years of observation of the English society, he had garnered a cautionary understanding of the said holiday and it's societal expectations for men. He had seen the frantic last minute rushes to the store, he had heard the repercussions for giving the wrong gift--making reservations at the wrong restaurant--saying hello with the wrong intonation. And every year as V had watched the foolishness up above, he had breathed a sigh of relief that he had no one to answer to on February the 14th. Faulkner, Dickens, and Bronte didn't care if they received pearls instead of diamonds or nothing at all.

Everything suddenly changed when V had found Evey curled up on the couch in the television room two nights ago.

V had been walking through the Galley one last time before he had planned to retire for the evening. The entire chasm was dark, save the flicker of light coming from the television room, indicating that Evey had not yet gone to bed. Following the light, V had entered the television room quietly and stood framed in the stone archway, observing the scene before him for several seconds. The girl had been reading under a small lamp, curled up under a soft cream colored blanket on the corner of the sofa. She sat facing the television that while on, had been muted. Wordless images and colors flashed from the screen cast her silhouetted features in red—no, now blue—no, now green light. Moments such as these were some of V's favorites, watching her unguarded, unprotected, being herself.

Just being Evey.

V inhaled quietly from behind his mask at the sight of the girl outlined in color reading quietly. After several seconds, he clasped his hands in front of him and cleared his throat to make his presence known.

"_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, I see." He had said, indicating her book with a slight nod of his head "Excellent choice."

Evey's eyes had snapped from the text to his face at the sound of his voice. He could have sworn he saw a faint smile as she twisted her body so that she was facing the back of the sofa in order to meet his gaze. "Yes. One of my favorites."

"Classic Shakespearean comedy. " V had said as he moved from the entrance of the room so that he was standing in back of the sofa looking over her, his arms spread and fingertips lightly resting on the top of the plush fabric. "_But_ _wherefore waste I time to counsel that art a votary to fond desire?_"

"I just finished with that part. Valentine's speech to Proteus?"

"Correct." V had nodded again, the smile behind his mask showing in his voice.

"I thought so……" Evey had let her voice trail off as she ran a hand through her hair and looked at the silent images flashing on the television. "God—speaking of Valentine, Valentine's Day is coming up, isn't it?"

She had looked up at him quizzically, despite the rhetorical nature of the question.

Valentine's Day?

V had only been able to blink in surprise before she spoke again.

"I hadn't realized that I'd even been here that long." She had shaken her head disbelief before quickly adding "--I mean, it's not a bad thing…"

_Valentine's Day?_

V had managed to respond with a vague noise of affirmation. It was the first time ever in speaking to her that he had almost wished she had nothing more to say on the subject. However, despite V's sudden feeling of uneasiness, she had continued to speak.

"It's just…" Evey had said as she turned away from V and glanced back down at her book. "I mean, I always hated Valentine's Day. The guys I've been with in the past, they never really cared."

V had heard her words, but he was still inexplicably fixated on a phrase of his own.

_Valentine's Day._

Cards—flowers—candy—over-commercialized tokens of false affection—teddy bears—hearts—Cupid—and--

Oh God.

He couldn't even begin to get his mind around the task of slaying such an insurmountable demon as the shroud of thinly disguised capitalism that surrounded every February 14th. However, at the present moment, there hadn't been time for him to even begin to concoct a strategy. Evey was there and was in need of some degree of comforting, something that V knew he could handle-

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Evey." V had said, regaining his usual composure after a brief second of silence. "A woman such as yourself deserves to be treated far better."

She snorted in response.

"How would you know?" Evey rested the book on her knee and looked up at V with an air of feigned suspicion "Have _you_ ever had a valentine?"

She was teasing him, but her words had suddenly struck something very real within.

"A valentine?" V had repeated softly, much softer than he originally had intended. "No, mademoiselle, I have not."

Fifteen years of complete solitude didn't exactly go well with a holiday that celebrated love and romance. And while throughout those years, he hadn't minded being alone, somehow, having Evey there looking up at him had hit something deep inside V that he believed had been eradicated a time long ago.

Could it be possible…..did…._he_ want a valentine as well?

"It's a silly holiday anyway." Evey had shifted her eyes back down toward her book as she spoke. Despite her composed behavior, there was a note of bitterness in her voice, mixed with anger and something V couldn't quite pinpoint. Wistfulness? Longing?

Oh, Evey…..

So, yet again, despite their different natures, they both were in the same situation. Two lonely souls victimized by one overly commercialized holiday. V had promised himself then and there that, despite his apprehension, he would not let her pass the holiday alone or unappreciated as she had before. He would not let Evey lose her faith in the wonders of romance and love. V swore he would not let her heart become as bitter and hardened as his was.

Or was it?

And so, mulling over these thoughts and questions, V continued his pace two nights later.

One…two….three…turn.

But what would she _want_?

Was she the type who would want nothing at all? A quiet, intimate dinner? An extravagant, elaborate celebration?

Flowers?

No—too temporal.

Chocolate?

No—too corporeal.

The Hope Diamond?

Well, now _there_ was an idea….

V smiled at the thought of managing to reclaim a prize of that renown from the Chancellor.

No—no. Too impersonal.

It _must_ be personal.

V shook his head as he continued to pace.

One…two…three…turn.

The large grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the Galley began to chime loudly, tearing him out of his thoughts if only momentarily.

3:00 am.

The cadence of the clock's bells stirred up something in V that suddenly made him feel impatient and almost angry as he continued to pace. He shouldn't have had time for indulging in such folly. Time had slowly been ticking down both metaphorically and literally since he had made his speech to the world hardly three months ago. He had his plan. There wasn't time for games—there wasn't time for feelings and emotions and—

Valentines?

V shook his head. He wouldn't let himself even think the thought that threatened to be pulled from the corner of his mind. There was not enough time for him to indulge in such wishes.

One…two…three….turn.

There was never enough time for V. But for her…

For Evey, he vowed he would make all the time in the world.

One…two…three…turn.

Once, of course, he figured out what to do about the ever looming day innocuously marked with a large red heart on the calendar in his room.

-------------------------------

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and remember to please, please, review! Next up, V gets an idea and Evey begins to get suspicious. Also, stay tuned for the V-centric companion piece to my last fic.


	2. Pancakes

**Votary to Fond Desire**

**Chapter 2**

**By SparkleStar**

**Author's Note:** I forgot last time to say that I do not own any of the V for Vendetta characters, although, believe me, I wish I did. I sincerely hope that reading this chapter gives you as much enjoyment as I got from writing it. To everyone who reviewed the last chapter, a HUGE thank you to each and every person! I wasn't going to update this for a week or so, but the huge response got me motivated. And now—ENJOY!

**Summery:** Valentine's Day in the Shadow Gallery, need I say more?

-------------------------------------

Pancakes.

V admitted that despite his hatred and vengeance at the world up above, life got better—albeit only slightly—when pancakes were involved. There was nothing else on earth like the smell of butter mixed with sticky syrup--the crackle of the batter as it hit the pan—the steam rolling off of the fluffy stacks of the finished product.

He inhaled the aroma from behind his mask.

Ah. Priceless.

Pancakes in the Shadow Gallery were somewhat of a Sunday morning tradition for V and Evey. For V cooking was a release—it was a mindless activity that demanded little of the cognitive processes. For as long as he could remember, after Larkhill of course, cooking had been V's form of self indulgence. He enjoyed scouring cookbooks for foreign recipes from distant lands and recreating them right within the confines of his small kitchen. A delicate aroma wafting through the air, an exquisite blend of spices and herbs, subtle of layers of flavor—food was a way for him to express emotions that the mask would sometimes not allow.

That was one of the reasons that V enjoyed cooking for Evey so much.

That was one of the reasons why V enjoyed cooking, period.

However, today was a little bit different.

V stood in the kitchen of the Shadow Gallery, busily working away over the silver counter. Dressed in his traditional chef's outfit of a flowered apron over his black coat, pants and boots, V would be the first to admit that the picture he painted was most likely bizarre beyond even the wildest impressionist's dreams. The flower print apron hadn't been his first choice, of course—it was simply because it was the only one that he owned and necessity demanded an apron for cooking. V hadn't even been self conscious about it until Evey had come to live with him in the Gallery. That first morning…the look on her face upon seeing him in the apron…

Priceless.

He grinned at the thought, a moment's escape from the problem that had plagued his mind for the last week.

Seven days.

V cracked an egg against the side of the mixing bowl a little harder than he normally did.

Seven. Days.

Seven days until Valentine's Day and he still had no idea what to do for Evey.

V pulled opened one of the cabinet doors with a little more force than needed and began to rummage through the myriad of various utensils in hopes of finding a spatula.

It hadn't been for lack of trying that he still had no idea what to do. Quite the contrary, V had spent the entire last week more entrenched in the sappiness of romance and love than he cared to admit. It was the first time ever that he had felt like he had failed at something, even if he still wasn't quite sure what he had failed at.

Throughout the past week he had tried pretty much every trick he could think of in hopes of figuring out what to do for Evey.

First, V had attempted to channel the Valentine's Day spirit and hopefully garner an idea by decorating for the holiday in his own way. Not with paper hearts and paper doilies, of course—no—he would never go that far. Over the course of the week, one by one, new objects began appearing around the Shadow Gallery--a romantic looking book here, an extra vase of flowers there, things that he believed would help give him ideas as to what to do for Evey. V thought that perhaps by setting a subtly more romantic atmosphere it would generate inspiration, if only on a subconscious level:

As a result, Evey had gotten slightly suspicious at the new decor:

"V, what is that?" Evey had pointed to a dried bouquet of flowers wrapped intricately together with a long piece of leather earlier in the week. The bouquet had been placed, in what V had thought was an inconspicuous area, as he had nestled them on top of a picture frame in the chess room of the Gallery.

V had stopped his swordplay from the center of the chamber and glanced toward where she had been pointing.

Oh.

_That._

He had sheathed his sword and began to walk towards her.

"That is a Lupercalian fertility symbol, Evey. It represents the sacrifices that the Romans used to make to Cupid, the god of love and passion. "

Evey had looked at the bouquet from out of the corner of her eye suspiciously. The dubious expression upon her face had threatened at any moment to break into a smile.

"And why is it here?' She had finally asked.

V had faltered for a moment before regaining his verbosity. Lying, especially to Evey, was never one of his strong points. He had paused, one hand still on his sword, and looked down at the tips of his boots.

"Simply for a…change in scenery, my dear."

Damn it.

She was onto him.

Next, instead of turning to ancient rituals and décor for subtle inspiration, V had turned to what he considered to be the greatest resource ever: literature. After days of scouring his expansive collection of books, V had spent the entire week re-reading what he considered to be some of his favorite pieces of romantic classics late at night:

"_What traitors books can be! You think they're backing you up, and they turn on you. Others can use them, too, and there you are, lost in the middle of the moor, in a great welter of nouns and verbs and adjectives—"_

V had slapped _Fahrenheit 451_ shut.

Oh the irony.

Maybe a novel about the romance between a man and the idea of freedom in a dystopian totalitarian society wasn't exactly the best place to be searching for ideas on Valentine's Day.

Finally, V had even relented in one area that he swore to himself he'd never explore. While he had always prided himself on being a connoisseur of classic films, there was always one genre that V, like most men, avoided like the plague:

Romantic comedies.

It wasn't that he didn't like them, per say, it was more that they all had identical plots and V usually had better things to do with his time. However, V had often heard Evey mention that one of her favorite movies was _Pride and Prejudice_. Having read the novel (and found Austen's work commendable, albeit a touch too saccharine for his liking), V finally relented. After watching all four versions of the movie ever made throughout the course of the week, he had agreed with Evey and apparently the rest of the female population that Colin Firth definitely made the best Mr. Darcy.

….

_What_ was he saying?

Having found a spatula, V began stirring the pancake batter with a touch of ferocity.

Mr. Darcy.

Why were all men required to live up to the Mr. Darcy standard anyway? The man wasn't even _real_—he was fictional--simply the product of a repressed Victorian mind-he was just an idea--

An idea, much like V himself….

However, while Mr. Darcy had looks, money and societal status to offer Elizabeth, V had nothing of that nature to offer Evey. How could he ever think that she would even—

No.

Again, he wouldn't let himself say it.

V turned his attention back to the pancakes, and with one fluid motion tipped the mixing bowl and attempted to make an even sized circle of batter in the now heated pan upon the stove. However, perhaps because of his distraction, or maybe just fate, the batter instead of forming a normal pancake shape took on a figure of it's own—

Oh for Christ's _sake_.

V leaned his face toward the sizzling pan and regarded the pancake's chosen form. Gone was his self loathing, replaced by a burst of sheer abhorrence. The world was mocking him. Valentine's Day was mocking him. Everything seemed to be mocking him lately--

"Morning, V."

Evey.

V turned on his heel to see Evey sleepily pad into the kitchen with bare feet and sweats on. She slid into her usual chair at the kitchen table and looked groggily up at the masked man in the flowered apron. Even with no make up on and her hair pulled back into a messy bun, she still looked, to V, gorgeous.

"Good morning, Evey." V attempted to cover up his frustration, acknowledging her presence with a nod "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." She smiled

"Excellent." V couldn't help but notice how his voice dropped softer whenever he was talking to her. He shook his head slightly and turned his attention back to the breakfast he was making. Part of him wanted to simply dispose of the pancake that was already cooking and start anew. However, Evey was now present and most likely hungry and he didn't want to leave her waiting simply because of one minor detail such as shape.

Even if the shape inexplicably represented the current the antithesis of his existence at the moment.

V reached for the spatula on the counter and flipped pancake over with a little too much force.

Why must Valentine's Day take over _everything _his life?

Evey frowned at the sight of V's apparent distress.

"V—are you okay? You look a little…worried…" She said after a few moments of watching him stare almost angrily at the stove.

"I'm just fine, Evey, thank you." V said, reaching across the counter for the plate he had set out.

It was red. How Freudian.

He scowled deeply behind his mask as he slid the now cooked pancake out of the pan and onto the plate. Turning toward Evey, he presented her breakfast to her forcing a smile into his voice.

"Sunday morning special, mademoiselle."

V watched a shocked look at on her visage develop as he placed the plate in front of her. Evey's eyes grew large and the side of her face begin to turn upward in the beginnings of a smile. She looked up at V and after several seconds, finally unable to hold it in any longer, burst out laughing.

V frowned slightly as he leaned against the counter, watching her.

It wasn't funny. Really. Valentine's Day had taken him hostage in his own life.

"V—" She said between waves of laugher "You didn't--!"

"Yes, mademoiselle?"

"V--it's--it's--!" She practically had her face on the table in laugher.

He waited patiently, hands folded in front of his body.

"The pancake…!"--gasp—".it's in the shape of" –gasp "…..of a heart!"

V paused before he spoke. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't intentional—that he had simply made it by accident—that it was simply a symbol of his uneasiness about the whole holiday—that it was the manifestation of one of his greatest fears, but instead he simply said:

"Yes. So it is."

V continued to wait coolly as she finished laughing. He felt simultaneously bitter toward the world and yet delighted that in some way he had managed to inadvertently give Evey a moment of happiness at his misery.

"I'm sorry—" Evey said, once she finally regained control of her voice "it's just…..I mean….when you get down to it, V, the entire government considers you this horrible terrorist—you're probably one of the biggest threats they've ever encountered--and here you are, making heart shapes pancakes. It's just too much."

Her statement made V break into a grin.

Okay. Looking at it from that way was _slightly_ humorous.

Slightly.

"Ah yes, but being multidimensional is the key to forming a good character, Evey. " He said with a small nod of his head.

"Yeah." Evey looked back down at the pancake. " You've been very into this whole idea of Valentine's Day lately, haven't you? I mean, the whole flower thing…and the books…and now the pancakes."

Hah.

If only she knew.

"And why not, my dear?"

Evey reached for the syrup that V had placed on the table and began to drown her pancake in it. "Well, most guys who I've been around wanted to forget the holiday all together."

"And most women don't….?" V wasn't quite sure if his statement was a question or not. He silently cursed the note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Well—no—but most guys never know what to do about Valentine's Day in the first place. They procrastinate, angry at society and women for holding them to such high expectations, but don't actually do anything about it. Then they freak out at the last minute because they have nothing planned. I mean, if men were smart, they would just ask women what they wanted."

Hm.

Perhaps he still retained more humanity than he cared to admit. However, V noticed a slight hitch in her explanation-

"But wouldn't that ruin the whole surprise?" He asked slowly, crossing his arms as he watched stab her breakfast with her fork.

Evey took a bite of the pancake and chewed thoughtfully before answering his question.

"Well, women like to be surprised, but not know they're being surprised. Like, they want to know that a guy is planning something, but not know what it is."

…..

V shook his head, trying to get his thoughts wrapped around her statement. Despite his most intricate understandings of the deepest and darkest government secrets, he would never—ever—even begin to understand the twists and turns of a woman's mind. However, the gauntlet had been laid down before him.

V took a deep breath.

He'd faced torture, he'd faced death and disease, he'd faced bullets, guns, explosives—everything that most people would be terrified of. He could certainly face asking question.

"_That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,  
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman….."_

Just a simple question, nothing more. He wouldn't lose any credibility, it wouldn't be detrimental to his character in any way.

Oh God.

Here we go.

"Well, theoretically…of course…." V began "If….._someone_ were actually in need of some help for ideas?"

Evey set her fork down and began to shake her head.

"V—seriously—you don't have to do anything—" Despite her protestations, the grin covering her face told him the truth.

"I never said I was, Evey. " V said quickly held up a hand in protest. "But if I happened to choose the same day of the year as Valentine's Day for some sort of celebration….theoretically, of course…"

Did she have any idea how hard this was for him? He had never, ever asked for help before in any situation in his entire life for as long as he could remember. He silently cursed St. Valentine's day of birth—the saint's mother—the Hallmark corporation--all the candy companies in the world for contributing to the commercialization of the holiday and with it the unnecessary expectations and societal hoops for men to jump through.

The girl took a moment to ponder his statement.

"If you _were_ to, you know, do something on Valentine's Day…theoretically." She finally said, the grin on her face growing with every word.

"If I were…" V repeated patiently.

"Then….I'd want…."

V watched as the expression on Evey's face changed rapidly from one of jest to a one of a serious nature. She looked down for a moment, collecting her thoughts before she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'd want…."

Evey was obviously struggling with something as she suddenly stopped and shook her head.

For a brief second, V felt something deep within him pull hard--a recognition that they were struggling with the same feelings in tandem. Could it be possible? Could he even dare to think that maybe she--?

"I'd want you to figure out a way to make me breakfast every morning. " Evey said interrupting his train of thought. She laughed strangely laugh as she picked up her fork again "And a way for you to make it for me every afternoon too. And night. Your recipes are amazing, even if you won't tell me what they are."

V forced a smile into his voice at her answer and for once was thankful that the mask wouldn't let her see the expression on his face.

"Everyone has to have a few secrets, Evey." He said gently.

"But you have so many-" Evey quickly cut in.

Was that….anger in her voice? Frustration?

A tense silence filled the kitchen and V turned back toward the stove, picked up the batter and poured another pancake into the pan, this time the correct shape.

Of course he had his secrets.

Did she not understand that some things were better left unknown and unsaid? That some things were better buried deep in the past and never dug up again? She wouldn't want to know—she wouldn't want the burden of seeing those scars of his, both metaphorically and literally…..

"I'm sorry." V said after a moment.

It wasn't an apology.

Evey picked up her fork and swirled it around in the syrup on the edge of the plate. V could hear the sound of the metal on the ceramic though his mask as he silently chastised himself for ruining yet another moment of potential honesty.

"Have you finished reading _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, Evey?" V finally asked over his shoulder, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.

"Yes I did." Although he wasn't looking at her, he could hear a sense of relief in her voice.

"And what did you think?" V questioned as he watched the normal pancake cook.

"Well" Evey said still swirling the fork in tempo with her words "I mean, I'd read it before. And the ending—it's just too happy with Valentine and Silvia and Proteus and Julia getting married and the criminals being pardoned by the Duke. I mean, life doesn't really end like that—a tree for everyone."

A tree for everyone.

She was making a reference to their previous conversation several weeks ago. Or had it been longer? It had seemed like only seconds ago he had sat next to her as she had drifted off to sleep, hands entwined and hearts in unison.

No, no, _no_.

Focus on the present—not the past. It was nothing more than one brief moment of the manifestation of her sympathy and tenderness for him. He had thoroughly convinced himself couldn't have been anything more. And V had more far important things to occupy his attention than indulging in such desires and wishes.

Like his plan.

…..or, like Valentine's Day.

…or, like Evey…..

How could he ever thank her for seeing something in him that he had overlooked for the past 15 years in just one holiday? How could he ever show her that he cared—how to show her that she meant more to him than anyone else in the world did in just one day? How could he thank her for giving him a reason to fight—a reason beyond the nameless faceless masses—a reason to exist—?

How could he thank her with her only request being breakfast?

By quoting Shakespeare to her?

With a tree?

…..

V suddenly dropped the spatula he had been holding and it hit the counter with a light slap.

Perfect.

_Perfect._

After a week's worth of mental taxation and torture over the dreaded holiday, he had finally gotten his idea.

V resisted the sudden urge to laugh out loud triumphantly.

Veni, vedi, vici.

The plan was cute and romantic but not too sappy. It was personal and touching and yet not in a way that would be uncomfortable for the either of the pair. It would be special both of them and V hoped that the memory would be something that would bring Evey joy for years to come. She deserved it for all of the joy he had brought her--

"V?"

V shook his head slightly, bringing himself back out of the haze of glory and back into reality. It was only then that he realized that he had been staring into the pan at a now blackened and burnt pancake.

"Ah, yes, mademoiselle?" V hastily picked up the spatula from the counter and grabbed the pan off the stove.

"Sorry---I thought that maybe you weren't listening or something."

"Oh no, no—I heard you perfectly." V said, using the spatula to scour the remains of the burnt pancake off of the pan over the sink. "I agree with your sentiments on the book exactly. However, for the time being, would you care for another pancake?"

Evey looked slightly surprised at his suddenly chipper tone. Mood swings were normally not a character trait that she was used to with him.

"Is it heart shaped?" She asked.

Oh, touché, St. Valentine.

"If you would like them to be." V said slowly. He still couldn't say that he was exactly enthused about the prospect of the holiday, despite his brilliant idea.

"Actually….I'd love it." Evey said with a coy smile and handed her plate back to V who took it from her with a flourish of his black gloved hand.

V turned back to the stove, picked up the bowl from the counter, and began to pour the pancake batter into the pan, this time intentionally in the shape of a heart. However, despite his actions, for the first time in a week, he felt his old confidence and bravado return.

He could do this—he could conquer Valentine's Day. All it would take was a little planning as he would need time to execute it all perfectly. The only problem was how to get Evey out of the Gallery safely for the afternoon….

Hm.

V pursed his lips from behind his mask as he listened to the pancake sizzle on the stove. This was going to be slightly more difficult than he originally imagined. However, being multidimensional was apparently one of his many talents.

V glanced down at the pan and shook his head almost in disbelief.

In contradiction with the norms of the world, he was, after all, a terrorist who made heart shaped pancakes.

--------------------

The Shakespearean quote in the middle is from _Two Gentlemen of Verona_.

**A/N:** Next up, V goes on an expedition and Evey begins her own preparations. Thanks for reading and remember to please review! I promise that I'll update this story as soon as possible—however with that being said, I do have a midterm, an 8 page paper due, and tech week for a show all coming up next week, so please be patient. Again, thank you SO much for reading!


	3. Pleuvoir

**Votary of Fond Desire**

**Chapter 3-Pleuvoir**

**By SparkleStar**

**A/N:** Hey everyone! I'm sorry that this took me so long to get out—as I said, I had a crazy week last week that lasted until Monday so I was only able to start this Tuesday and it took a little more time than usual because of the switched POV (and I wanted to get it right!) Anyway, again I would like to extend a HUGE thank you to all of my reviewers—you guys are pretty much the best thing EVER! Thank you SO much—I honestly appreciate each and every one of your reviews even if I can't respond to them individually. Anyway, ENJOY! The next chapter will be out WAY sooner, I promise—most likely in a few days!

---------------------

--"And now we turn to the weather--Rick, how is it looking out there?"

--"Well, it is absolutely _pouring_ tonight, Jenni. England, brace yourselves because it's only about to get worse. This unexpected storm that blew in late yesterday afternoon has drenched the area from upper London down to Bristol with several inches of rainfall and it's expected"--

With one smooth motion of her arm, Evey clicked off the television.

Showers.

Rain.

When _was_ the last time she had even seen the rain? When was the last time she had felt it on her skin, when was the last time she had sat by the window and watch it fall from the safety and comfort of her own apartment? When was the last time she had walked through the streets—felt the droplets hit her coat, her umbrella, her bag—anything?

Too long ago.

Evey glowered at the now silent television screen.

How long had it been since she first arrived at the Shadow Gallery, anyway? The days and weeks seemed to blend together now—had it been four months? Five? It was February…four months. Four months of unchanging stone and brick. Four months without any rain. Four months without any weather at all, actually.

It seemed to go by so fast, but now, looking back, to Evey it felt like a lifetime.

She signed in resignation.

Living in the Shadow Gallery this long hadn't necessarily been a bad thing though….

But she did miss being outdoors.

Evey sat on the couch of the television room of the Shadow Gallery, curled up in the corner with her usual cream colored blanket. It was way past the time that she normally stayed up--according to the clock on the small DVD player on top of the television; it was nearly 2:30 in the morning. She had been watching the news—hoping that she could distract herself—make herself fall asleep—anything to forget the one thought that had plagued her mind the entire night:

V still wasn't back yet.

He had left during the mid afternoon of the day before, hardly saying a word to Evey from behind the protection of his mask, his hat, and his long black cape. It hadn't bothered her at the time—he was always popping in and out of the Gallery, or so it seemed….

However, he had never been back this late. When V went out, he normally came back in around midnight or so.

Slowly Evey's feelings of concern for V turned to something akin to resentment.

_He_ could leave whenever he wanted to.

He could see the rain if he so desired to. He could leave the Shadow Gallery—leave the unchanging stone walls and ancient artifacts—leave it all and see green and life and breathe in fresh air.

She could not.

However, the momentary flash of resentment that surged through her body was instantly followed by another thought.

….

Damn him.

"God….." Evey breathed as placed her head in her hands. She drew her knees into her chest, trying to sort out her confusion. Living with V was like a constant struggle between emotions—there was no middle ground. One moment she would be angry at him, the next regretful, the next worried and the next—

_Damn_ him.

All she had wanted was a normal life—her normal mundane job at her normal boring office. All she had wanted was to slowly work her way up the corporate ladder and hopefully marry rich, have a few kids, and call it a day. And then somehow—something along the way got screwed up and a masked vigilante with a passion for Shakespeare had saved her life--basically kidnapped her--and all of her plans and hopes for the future had been forever altered. Nothing would ever be the same again.

And here she was, unable to even stay angry at him for it.

Why?

Was it because she enjoyed the sudden immersion into culture that she had thought died along with her parents? Their morning chats over breakfast? Laughing at him when she would accidentally catch him unguarded—unprepared—sword fighting, singing along with a song under his breath, laughing to himself?

Why?

……..

And _why_ wasn't he home yet?

As Evey sat on the couch now without the television to distract her, a million thoughts began to flood her mind before she even had a chance to stop them.

-—V had been captured by Fingermen—no—he was too smart for that—Sutler and his men had finally found him—they had caught him off guard—they had taken him—he had been killed and she'd never know because--

_Stop._

He's fine.

He's V. He can handle whatever it is he does during the day perfectly without you incessantly worrying about—

Evey's thoughts were stopped by the sound of footsteps entering the Gallery.

One………………two…three…

V.

She exhaled in relief, not even realizing that she had been holding her breath in the first place. V was home—he was okay—

One……………….two…………three………..

Wait.

Evey inhaled sharply she listened to the rhythm of V's footsteps. Something was wrong. V normally walked with a confident cadence—he strode wherever he went. These footsteps were muffled and timid. And…was that…a squishing sound?

One…………..two…………………..three………….

Evey felt the panic rise from her stomach to form a lump in her throat. She could have sworn it sounded like limping—maybe he had been injured---oh God—and that sound must be blood--

"V!" Evey shouted as she tore off the blanket and leapt from the couch.

One…two…

She heard the noise freeze as she bolted from the television room into the center chamber of the Gallery and met a sight that even several days after couldn't quite describe with a straight face:

V, the normally suave, debonair, and polished V, was standing in the middle of the central chamber of the Gallery, soaking wet.

"_V_………?"

V had paused frozen in mid stride, obviously trying to be quiet with his entrance, reflecting the fact that his footsteps sounded slightly different. His black cloak clung around his lean frame and slowly dripped water to the floor as the two stood there staring at one another for what Evey though was quite possibly one of the longest moments of her life. She let her eyes trail behind him only to see wet footprints lining the floor of the Gallery. Evey blinked hard to try and repress the smile that threatened to overtake her features at any moment. She heard V cough slightly as she watched him reach up to take off his misshapen hat and press it to his chest.

Oh God, even his mask still had rain drops on it.

"Evey." V said making a small bow to her and then replacing his hat as he straightened up "I didn't think that you would still be up this late."

Evey didn't quite know how to respond to that statement.

I was up late worrying about you?

"V…you're all…..wet…."

She watched as V contemplated her remark for a moment. He glanced down at himself and opened his palms face up as if trying to come up with a suitable explanation. After several seconds to obviously no avail, Evey saw the mask rise back up.

"It _is_ raining, my dear."

She could have sworn she heard a smile in his voice, indicating that he found the absurdity of the situation at least somewhat humorous.

"Touché." Despite Evey's best attempt, the grin overtook not only her voice, but her entire face as well.

"It it's French that you desire Evey," V said with a touch of his usual bravado "Then the correct term would be 'pleuvoir'"

"Pleuvoir?"

"Yes. The infinitive of 'to rain'."

Oh God, she loved how he was full of useless facts and quotes.

……

Snap out of it, Evey.

She shook her head and prayed that she hadn't been staring at him for too long.

"Wherever you went today…" Evey gestured to his soaked form "You didn't take a brelly with you…?"

"I had no need for one at the time. However, as you can clearly see…." V looked back down to his clothing once more. "Even the best laid plans can go awry."

He coughed slightly again, leading Evey to instantly worry that he had gotten ill from being out in the pouring rain too long.

Don't be silly, Evey….he's fine….

Just fine.

Still…..it wouldn't hurt just to make sure…..

"V, you're not….sick, are you?"

She hoped that the question wouldn't come out as an insult, nor as a reminder of his fallibility. Evey watched as V cocked his head thoughtfully her way before responding.

"No—no. I'm fine, Evey." He said softly. "A little wet, but no worse for the wear. Thank you."

"Good. I just—"Evey shook her head and glanced down, hoping to conceal her feelings as much as she possibly could at the moment. It was only then that she noticed that the bottoms of V's boots were uncharacteristically covered with mud and several leaves.

Leaves?

Evey frowned slightly.

Something was _definitely_ going on.

V always took the up most care of his boots—she had seen the painstaking time he spent keeping them polished and clean. She knew how much he enjoyed hearing their click on the stone floor of the Gallery as he walked through the rooms. She also knew how he would hate the idea of any of his prized artifacts becoming dirty. So why exactly had he returned to the Gallery, disheveled and wet at an absurd hour of the morning?

"V, if you don't mind me asking…." Evey began, still not lifting her gaze from the boots "What exactly were you doing tonight?"

V followed her gaze down to his boots, and upon seeing their appearance, instantly straightened his whole body. Evey could swear that his mask appeared to take on an almost embarrassed smile—as if he just realized the impact of being discovered so disheveled by her.

However, it didn't bother Evey one bit.

Actually, she though it was really-

"Ah—yes--" V cut into her thoughts as he grandiosely attempted to brush off some of the water from his cape to no avail. "What I was doing, my dear Evey, is…all part of my plan."

His plan.

His plan for revenge?

Or his plan for something else?

"Part of your plan involves a…forest?"

"Yes." V said matter of factly, as he still tried to dry himself "Yes it does."

That made absolutely no sense to Evey. Although she didn't know the exact nature of his vendetta and if it indeed did include a forest, she did know that part of his plan was the destruction of the Parliament building on November 5th of this year. However, despite the fact she pondered the logistics of such a feat for several seconds, she couldn't quite come up with any scenario which would require trees, or woodland animals, or anything else she could think of in a forest.

"What—are you getting revenge on mother nature too?" Evey finally asked with a hint of sarcasm.

V froze in the middle of trying to shake out some of the water from his wig. She watched his posture change entirely from being relaxed, albeit slightly embarrassed, to back on guard. He shifted his weight so that he was standing evenly on both feet and tilted his head down slightly, morphing the embarrassed look on his mask into one of ferocity.

"No, I'm not…." V answered, voice edged with a sudden fire.

Evey instantly kicked herself for ruining the light hearted mood with one stupid little comment.

Nice job, Evey.

He probably thinks that you're making fun of what he's spent the last 15 years of his life working on.

"V I didn't mean it like that--I'm so sorry" Evey instantly took a step forward, as if to ensure V that she hadn't been mocking him at all.

No, if anything she was just trying to reassure him that--

"…but I could always add her to my list as well…."

Evey blinked as she stopped dead in her tracks.

Had he just made….a joke?

A joke relating to the revenge he was hell bent on completing?

She watched as his entire frame began to shake with quiet laughter. It was strange for Evey to see V laugh, and the sight instantly took her back to the night when she had first encountered the masked man as he saved her life. She felt now as she did then—that she wasn't quite sure how to respond to his sudden mirth.

So, instead she just stared at him.

Despite the grin permanently plastered on his face, V infrequently indulged placating the plastered on smile—he must have been either really happy or very stressed out about something…

After several seconds of indulgence, V coughed again from behind his mask and collected himself once more.

"I'm sorry, Evey. Things have just been a little….different as of late."

"Not different as in bad, I hope" Evey said quickly, thinking more of V than of herself.

"As in, you will find out shortly, my dear." V said softly. "And I certainly hope that it won't be a bad thing for you."

He ducked his head slightly as he finished talking and the sight, combined with the fact he way still dripping wet, made V look suddenly shy and uncertain. It was a strange sight to Evey to suddenly see a man who normally oozed strength and poise to look so unsure and almost…timid?

So he had been outside doing something for _her_….?

What could he possibly have been doing?

She began mentally recounting their previous conversations, hoping that she could stumble over any keys at to why he was being so cryptic. What had they been talking about previously that day? Current events….something about one of the movies she had been watching.…Shakespeare, of course—

_Two Gentlemen of Verona?_

Valentine….

Sudden realization hit Evey like a ton of bricks.

……….

Valentine's Day?

Of course. It was the only explanation.

It was now February 10th, only four days until the big holiday. V had dropped several hints that he might do something a few days ago over the heart shaped pancake incident as he would continue to call it. She had deflected his questions with a simple joke after a brief struggle with herself over whether to be truthful or not. What did she _really_ want for Valentine's Day?

Well, she wouldn't be the first one to admit it.

In any case, Evey felt suddenly very embarrassed that V would have gone to any trouble to do something for her when she obviously had no way of reciprocating. She knew it was in his chivalrous nature and most likely couldn't persuade him with her protestations, but still wanted to make life as easy for him as she could.

"V—if this has anything to do with Valentine's Day coming up—"

"Of course not—"The way he violently began to shake his head clued Evey right in. The sight made her inadvertently smile.

Awwwwwwww….

"Please, don't go out of your way to do something for me." She said as genuinely as she possibly could "You have bigger things to worry about than—"

"You?" V breathed a little too quickly. She watched as he suddenly looked down again

Evey paused a moment.

Could it be possible….?

No—not now.

"Yes." Evey said and swallowed hard. "You have the world to worry about. You have Parliament and November 5th. Seriously…"

She watched as V pondered her statement for a brief moment, lightly drumming his gloved fingers in thought upon his leg. It was one of those moments with V that she would have killed to know exactly what was going on in his mind.

What was he thinking about?

Her? His plan? Valentine's Day? Something entirely unrelated?

"Evey, I wouldn't _dream_ of it." V finally said despite the fact that his dramatic tone told her otherwise. "Now if you're quite ready to go to bed--"

She watched him look down to his sopping wet form again, changing the smile on his face into an almost sheepish grin.

"Oh—yes--yes, I am." Evey responded as fast as she could "You should get changed."

"Thank you. I will." V said graciously as he bowed his head and turned to walk towards his room "Goodnight Evey."

"Goodnight V."

As Evey started to her room, she could hear the sound of V's footsteps squishing along the Gallery once more.

Oh V…..

She fought to keep a giggle in.

He was so cute when he was soaking wet.

There. Now she had at least said it.

-------------------------------------------

An hour and a half later, Evey, restless with insomnia, still hadn't managed to fall asleep. Tangled in her sheets, she continued to toss and turn as her mind raced with the somewhat absurd events of the night. As she continued to lie awake, one though and one thought only plagued her mind—one thought that hadn't really hit her at the time because she had been preoccupied with V's disheveled state. One thought that she hadn't really had to worry about before because the guys that she had been with—albeit, not in the same way she was with V now, hadn't cared—hadn't given her the time of day and certainly hadn't put any thought into what was every girl's simultaneously most dreaded and important holiday:

Valentine's Day.

Shit.

So V _was_ planning something to do for her…

But what could she do for him?

V wasn't just someone who you went to the store and bought something for. He was more than just a friend to her—her was an idea—an enigma. And what do you get a man who is an idea? What do you get a man who is an emblem—a figurehead of revolution and the change to come? What do you get a man who has been hurt—who has been abandoned by society—far away from any kind words—any touch—anyone who cares? What do you get a man who has not only saved your life—but who has expanded your entire world beyond any possible capabilities? A man who you trust—the first man who you ever trust? A man who you—

No.

How could she possible even begin to convey how much V already meant to her?

And it didn't even matter anyway because V would never—

No, _no._

Evey inhaled sharply at the thought. She had almost let herself go there—she had almost let herself admit something that she knew deep down inside and yet didn't have the courage to actually say, even to herself. Were V's lingering glances simply concern nothing more? Was all of the chivalry towards her simply his way of trying to win her over, or just who he was? Was it simply a deep friendship? More than once it had threatened to cross those boundaries.

And constantly she had wanted it to.

No—she couldn't tell him. She wouldn't tell him. He would find her admission to him foolish. He would see her as childish. He wouldn't understand why and then their whole relationship—their whole _friendship—_would be weird from then on out.

But….

But if he was the one to say anything first….

She might just say yes.

However for the time being she still needed an idea. And for an idea, she needed to think and to think, Evey decided that the best thing to do was to get out of her room that she had spent the last hour and a half tossing and turning in. Maybe she's watch the telly. Maybe she could get an idea of what to do for V from there. Maybe she could order something for V on an infomercial and have it delivered to the Gallery.

Please deliver to Evey Hammond, Shadow Gallery, somewhere underground in England….

Evey laughed to herself at the absurdity of the thought as she threw off the covers, grabbed the grey sweatshirt from the foot of her bed and pulled it on. She quietly opened the door and began to walk down the hallway. It was dark and she could hardly see, yet she was now familiar with enough with the Gallery to know exactly where she was. She began to silently walk past V's room until something very large and very sharp suddenly was beneath her foot.

"Ow!" Evey breathed as she instinctively crouched down and raised her foot to her hand.

Whatever she had stepped on _hurt_.

She looked back up at V's door, praying that he hadn't heard her voice.

Silence.

After several seconds of staring at the wood panels, she looked down to try and find out exactly what she had stepped on.

Ow.

What the--?

Evey caught her breath as she said the perpetrator lying on the floor near the wall.

…..

_Perfect._

It's perfect.

The girl bent down and picked the small object off of the floor and turned it over in her hand. Wherever it had come from—be it from outside, some moment of sheer coincidence or God—it was the absolute perfect Valentine's Day gift for V, with some explanation of course. Evey smiled to herself as she curled her palm around the object, rising from the floor to return to her room.

Because what _do_ you give a man who is an idea?

You give him another idea—you give him something that he would never allow himself to have.

Hope.

--------------------------

**A/N:** Next up, the dreaded holiday arrives—what IS V's plan and how can he possibly pull it off with Evey there? The next chapter will be up MUCH sooner—most likely in a few days. Thanks a bunch everyone and remember to please review!


	4. Patience

**Votary of Fond Desire-Ch 4**

**Patience**

**By SparkleStar**

**A/N:** I bet your forgot about me, eh? After a car accident, a death in the family, an increased work week (They doubled my hours!), in addition to two shows, and going to school full time, I am back! We're almost finished. Enjoy!

------------

Patience had neverbeen one of Evey's strong points.

Evey sighed and dejectedly flopped down on the bed in her room of the Shadow Gallery.

She would _so_ never forgive him for this.

After several seconds lying still and being buried within the mess of white sheets and pillows, she rolled over on her back and pulled her knees into her chest, looking over at the myriad of books that lined the wall to the very top of the ceiling. Maroon—navy—brown—the books were an eclectic mix of all different colors, shapes, and sizes. The sight made a strange mosaic and sometimes, if she squinted at the walls, she could swear that V had put them in some sort methodical, and yet undecipherable form. The books that made up the wall were classic books—text books—autobiographies of famous historical figures—literally every kind of book that Evey could possibly imagine and then some. It was like a library—her own library filled with materials banned by the government. And of course, there were some books that weren't banned, seeing as she had accidentally stumbled upon some sort of a trashy romance novel nestled within the massive pile several weeks ago.

Evey smiled to herself at the memory of her waving the book in front of V's nose.

He had valiantly tried to escape out of that one. When she had confronted him with the small paperback book, although she couldn't see his face, she could swear that the mask had blushed deeper than ever. After several seconds of quick thinking, he had tried to explain to Evey that he was a collector of many things, and yes, _all_ different types of novels included.

Right.

But it was not a week ago; it was February 14th, also known as Valentine's Day. And Evey was no where near V in any way, shape or form.

She was sitting—no, now lying in her bed in her room.

Alone.

Still slightly fuming.

…

Evey glanced over at the clock, from her position now sprawled out on her bed.

11:00 am.

Only eight more hours to go.

Oh God.

Eight more hours? Had it really only been 45 minutes?

Evey fought the urge to scream in frustration and instead wrestled the sheets back from the pile on the bed and slid underneath the covers. Turning on her side once, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and adjusted the pillow under her head.

Maybe she'd go back to sleep—take a nap. Maybe nap a little, then read, and then get ready. By then, it would be almost time.

Evey shut her eyes.

……….

V would _so_ never hear the end of this.

As Evey attempted to coax herself to sleep, she somewhat bitterly recounted the actions that had gotten her into this situation in the first place:

Valentine's Day. Right.

She had woken up around 9:00 and as usual, stumbled out into the kitchen of the Shadow Gallery in sweats and no makeup. Walking down the hallway, she had paused to tie her wild hair back with the hair tie that she had around her wrist. Although V had gotten used to seeing her relaxed and comfortable, she had known that even he, he who had faced fears unimaginable, would never be quite prepared to see her untamed hair.

And after all, it was Valentine's Day…..and you never know…..

The smell of sizzling bacon filled the air as Evey had continued her walk down the hall.

Mmmm.

Breakfast.

Evey had rounded the corner and stepped out into the main chamber of the Shadow Gallery so that she had a clear view of V in the kitchen before he knew of her presence. She had scanned the room before saying anything, trying to see if V had maybe begun to decorate for the holiday…or something like that….

Nothing…

Evey frowned slightly.

Maybe she had misinterpreted him—maybe he wasn't doing anything at all. Despite the fact that he had basically come out and asked her what she wanted him to do several weeks ago, perhaps her nonchalant answer had given him the wrong impression of what she wanted. Maybe he would simply ignore the holiday as most men did.

Most men…..

But still….V wasn't exactly like most men.

"Morning V" Evey had said simply as she walked into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of V, flowered apron on as usual, whipping around at the sound of her voice. However, perhaps it had simply been a misstep, but as he had whirled around, V lost his balance slightly and had reached a black gloved hand behind him on the counter to steady himself.

She had watched him pause for a moment, a pang of concern suddenly rising from her stomach to her throat. Although the expression painted upon his mask never changed, this morning it had been tinged with an exhaustion that even Evey could plainly see. She had felt her face crease into a frown at the thought.

He was okay…..right?

"Bonjour mademoiselle." V had said with his usual bravado after the brief moment "I trust you slept well?"

He had waited attentively for her answer, all traces of his exhaustion suddenly gone. Evey felt herself inadvertently relax as she had slid into a chair at the table.

V was just fine after all.

"Yes, thank you." Evey had said as V had placed a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of her.

He had turned back toward the stove after and had begun to hum under his breath as he had cracked another egg on the side of the pan.

Evey had let her mind begin to wander as she ate. It had only been after a few brief moments of silence between the two that Evey realized neither of them had acknowledged the holiday at hand.

…..

Should she say something? Wish him a happy Valentine's Day? Perhaps begin to talk about what had happened in years past? Maybe quote some of the random facts she knew about the holiday?

Shit.

She hadn't wanted to be the first to address Valentine's Day, lest it appear that she was too eager, as with most females, to find out if he would actually be doing something. After all, Evey had been planning something too, since she literally stumbled upon the perfect gift only one week ago. However, depending on how he took it, it could be seen as small and kind of insignificant.

And slightly…..sappy.

Evey had suddenly begun to worry.

Good job, Evey. If he doesn't do anything, you're going to come off looking like a total over sentimental female and if he does you're going to come off looking like a total-

"Do you know what day today is, Evey?" V's voice cut had through the sound of rattling utensils he was using to make breakfast. As he asked the question, he had looked over his shoulder slightly so that he could hear her answer.

"Um, it's February 14th, right…?" She had said almost timidly.

"And you know what that means…?"

Of course she did. Every woman had an internal clock for the most important, albeit, also ridiculous holiday of the year.

Evey suppressed a smile as she had taken a bite of bacon.

So he _had_ been planning something…..

It had only been then that Evey had realized that V had turned around and was now patiently awaiting her answer, hands clasped in front of his body.

"….It's Valentine's….Day…?" Evey had said and then instantly began to chastise herself over her tone. It hadn't been a question, nor a statement, but it ringed of uncertainty and a certain sense of distrust on her part.

God, Evey, why did you have to sound so stupid and typically female?

But all thoughts of herself had suddenly dissipated as she had watched V take in a deep breath and then exhale, as if he was preparing himself for something. She had never seen him so uncertain around her before. His sudden change in demeanor, as if had had been preparing himself for November Fifth had made her instantly worry about him once more.

Was this about Valentine's Day, or something else? Was this the reason why he had looked so exhausted earlier? Was it something else that he didn't want to tell her—something that could be--

"Right. It is Valentine's Day" V had interrupted her thoughts, nodding slowly. "And….I want you ready by seven o'clock—no later."

Evey had dropped her fork on her plate with a loud clang.

_What?_

She had felt her face instantly turn redder than she wished as a whole mix of emotions flooded her mind, clouding her thoughts.

No way.

He couldn't be. He just couldn't.

"You want me _ready_?" Evey had asked incredulously "V, are….we going on a…a….?"

Oh _my_ God.

She could scarcely get herself to say the word, as she realized the thought she was thinking was suddenly almost as absurd as her whole situation.

Going out with a masked terrorist that all of London was currently searching for?

Not possible.

Whatever—the logistics didn't matter right now.

He had asked—well—_told_ her out on a…

Date.

Evey had resisted the urge to laugh with glee as she had watched V turn around back to the stove, as if almost embarrassed to face her. He had picked up the mixing bowl on the counter and had begun to mix before speaking again.

"Er………yes." Came his soft reply as Evey had stared at the back of his black wig which was shaking slightly from the motion of his arm stirring the mixture "In a way."

At the sound of his almost timid answer, Evey had tried her best to remain composed and not turn into a puddle of sappy female sentiments. V was taking her on a date. An actual date. Out of all of the men she had been with previously on this holiday, none of them had ever…ever…..

Oh V….

Wait.

Evey suddenly had been brought back to the point of her original confusion, once her joy had been fully and internally expressed.

How the hell are we going on a date?

"But—where—I mean, V, we can't go anywhere…."

Evey had watched as V had slowly stopped stirring. V had turned around, the smiling mask regard her as he had wiped his black gloved hands on his apron. He had leaned against the counter, supporting himself with his arms, and crossed one leg over the other.

He had obviously been thinking about something. Planning perhaps.

Evey had tried to not let the small smile on her face threaten to overtake all of her features.

After several seconds, he had finally spoken.

"Evey, could you please shut your eyes?"

What?

He wouldn't be taking her somewhere _now_, right?

Maybe this was all part of some sort of surprise—yes—that's what it _had_ to be.

However, before she had blindly obeyed, the way that V's head had been cocked as he said the statement had triggered something in her mind that she would instantly regret not listening to several minutes later.

"Okay…." She had said slowly, and pushed back her chair from the table. She had waited, eyes shut at the table for what felt like a lifetime, listening to the echo of his steps circle once around the kitchen.

And suddenly, he had taken her hand in his.

As his black leather glove closed around her palm, Evey had felt her breath catch in her throat. He had pulled gently on her arm, signaling her to stand up. She had obeyed, the other arm out, attempting to feel her way.

Oh God.

"We're going to take a little walk, Evey. Please keep your eyes shut."

Just trust him.

He had taken a step and Evey followed his moments.

Where were they going?

"I--I can't see, V"

"They say love is blind." Came his reply, his voice mixed with a note of jest and something else as they continued their walk.

Another step.

Oh God, if she tripped and fell…..

This had better be worth it.

"Where are we going?"

She felt his grip tighten around her hand as they continued on.

"You'll see."

As he led Evey through the Gallery, she had fought the urge to open her eyes and take a look at where they were going. Since being blind, she had been amazed at how heightened her other senses became. She had been able to hear the sound of V's boots on the carpet, the tempo of his breath, she had been able to feel the shadows and the lights in the Gallery, she had been able to feel the heat of his hand from beneath the black leather glove—to feel the person he was inside of it all.

She felt him suddenly stop and draw her in front of him with his arm.

Where were they?

After several seconds of silence, his voice had instructed her again.

"Alright, Evey, you may open your eyes now."

Evey had taken a deep breath in preparation.

She had opened her eyes.

And as Evey finally did, she had gasped in astonishment.

_What?_

What in the _hell_….?

She was in her _room_?

"V, I-"

She had been cut off by a motion of the masked man's hand. V had been leaning against the door frame, mask tilted towards her in his usual polite form of addressing her.

"Evey, while I do need you ready at seven tonight, I first have some business to attend to that requires you being out of the way." His voice had been tinged with a smile as he had spoken.

"You need me out of the way….?" She had repeated incredulously, her mind still trying to wrap around the events that had just preceded her suddenly being taken back to her room. She had been expecting flowers—maybe a chocolate fountain—something--

"Unfortunately, yes, I do need you out of the way." She had watched V glance around the room at the stacks of novels that lined the walls "And I believe you have enough in here to busy yourself for a while."

_What?_

"Have patience, my dear." He had said as he took a step back and out of the door frame.

_What? _

Evey, who had still been frozen in disbelief, watched the door click shut and then a soft noise following it. It had taken her several seconds before she began to realize exactly what had just happened to her.

_No_ way.

No—he wouldn't…..

"V…?"

There had been no response.

Evey had eyed the door handle suspiciously as she took a step closer.

He _wouldn't…_

Evey had taken another step closer.

And another.

And another.

She had put one hand on the door handle and turned-

He had locked the door.

He had **locked** the door.

Evey had stared at the handle in disbelief.

"V…!"

It was not a shout of anger, nor of exasperation, nor of gratitude, nor of loathing, nor of jest. It was a shout of all of the emotions that she could not express toward him at the moment and then some. Disbelief—outrage—slight humor--

She could have sworn she heard a faint chuckle before his reply had come from behind the heavy wooden door:

"Patience, my dear."

Evey had crossed her arms for a moment and stared angrily at the planks of wood that kept her from the outside world of the Gallery.

He was going to pay.

Evey turned over in her bed, bringing her thoughts back to the present as she began to drift off to sleep.

Oh, V would pay.

Dearly.

Dearly……………….

-----------------------------------------

A/N-Thanks for being patient! Please review, as always! Next up, the finished product, AKA, the moment you all have been waiting for: V's plan and their subsequent night. We're going back to more of V's POV. My keyboard is already sprouting fur. Fluff galore. Thanks again and I 3 you guys!


End file.
